Jeremy Allen White shines in the latest addition to the ever-growing catalogue of musical biopics. With strong acting and a naturally excellent score, Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere acts as more than just a recount of one of rock’s biggest stars
A last-minute booking during London Film Festival 2025, Scott Cooper’s Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere was brought to life by the astounding Royal Festival Hall sound system. The film’s opening jump between a black and white scene, and a 1981 Cincinnati performance, creates a powerful early contrast that lays foundation for a constant juxtaposition throughout, separating his music from his personal life. This stark switch was excellent in the Royal Festival Hall. The audience feel as though they are in the crowd, colours bring this concert to life before our eyes with a real sense of immersion. It must be said too, Jeremy Allen White evidently studied Bruce’s stage presence closely, from that gritty, New-Jersey voice to the distinctive stance.
This opening set up an impressively cool first act. There is an evidently masculine ambience attached to Springsteen’s lifestyle: through his music (specifically his guitar), the cars he drives, his very understated courting of Faye. While Springsteen is displayed as fragile at this stage, mainly through flashbacks; there is evidently a focus from Cooper to celebrate the musician that is Springsteen first and foremost. This act was the most successful. It was paced excellently, with a real vibrant undertone created by some excellent music and heartwarming elements, such as the carousel scene.
However, as we are accustomed to, if you’re going to call upon Jeremy Allen White’s services, evidently there must come a point where his character’s fragility shows signs of instability. It’s such a natural fit for Bruce, as he switches his style to acoustic, and starts writing significantly more personal songs, at the determent of the marketing being forced upon him. Since this film is a biopic, based off Warren Zanes’ book released earlier this year, this section is held back by the necessity for a factual depiction of the creation of Nebraska. There is a profound sense of dissatisfaction, as we see this natural charisma and vibrancy created by the opening act crushed by Springsteen losing himself. Purely as a viewing experience, although strictly necessary, once his personal life became more foregrounded, the pacing became significantly slower.
This became a problem that stayed with the film till the end, as it really struggled to reach a succinct conclusion. Within the last half an hour, there were at least three points where I was convinced the credits would start rolling, only for it to chase a new element. Where Cooper clearly wanted us to resonate with Springsteen’s psyche and trauma, this felt detached and forced upon the audience, rather than naturally emotional. This is thematic of the many biopics released recently, in what has become a rather saturated genre. Directors seem to feel the need to compensate on the reality they are depicting. There is a fine line between stylising a storyline and over-stylising it. Cooper fell short towards the end, having previously done an excellent job of developing his own atmosphere within the reality, the ending felt constructed to try and play up to the audience’s emotions. It came across as a very classic “less is more” scenario.
Away from the biopic elements, themes surrounding memory and nostalgia were a highlight of the film. Indeed, Mark Kermode commented that although the film is a biopic, beyond that, it is a film about depression. Indeed, if someone were to watch this from a historically blank slate, it is a compelling study into how depression is channelled through a musician and into music. Particularly within the black and white flashback scenes, where Stephen Graham puts in yet another astounding performance as a troubled and turbulent father, we truly see Bruce as a human away from his celebrity status. Despite previous points, when Bruce sits on his father’s knee, there is a poignant sense of innocence within Bruce, both as the adult rockstar, but also as the child who had to defend his mother from a father he still admired. Considering the journey of physical and mental conflict throughout the biopic, the film ultimately achieves the justification of Nebraska, and personifies Springsteen the celebrity, through the vulnerability so effortlessly portrayed by White.
But more impressively, throughout this, there is such a broad range of sensory experience. Towards the completion of Nebraska, there are some profound moments of irony and sarcasm that seriously had the audience chuckling. The music is naturally fantastic throughout and rightfully is central to the film’s core. These themes and elements amalgamate into a broadly excellent viewing experience, that unfortunately is let down by the rigidity of producing a factual biopic. There is serious potential here for a film discussing depression and trauma within music, but naturally, the story is confined to the life of Springsteen.
Lorcan Pritchard is a recent Liberal Arts graduate from Loughborough University. Beginning a love for film in his late teens, Lorcan has always been more keen on analysing than producing film, especially drawn when he is able to resonate with a script. You can find him on Instagram @lorcanpritchard_ or on Letterboxd @lorcanprit.
